


You're Perfect to Me

by AAvery



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Elements, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AAvery/pseuds/AAvery
Summary: For as long as San could remember, he had always lived with a horrible curse. He’d been born with it, as far as he knew, and that’s all he really knew about it. He supposed it could’ve been worse. He could’ve been cursed to look like a hideous monster until he found love, or to sleep endlessly until his true love kissed him. But no, instead, he was cursed, whenever anyone looked at him, to always look like their ideal type. It had taken him forever to figure out why no one, not even his own parents, seemed to know what he really looked like. But this was dangerous, what he was about to do. Just opening himself up for even more heartbreak that he didn’t even know if he could handle at the moment. But he was dying to know—he had to know—what Wooyoung saw when he looked at him. What was the biggest-crush-of-his-life’s ideal type?





	You're Perfect to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently been struck with a new muse. I really don't know what happened to be completely honest. For those of you who know me, this is certainly something new fandom-wise and for those who don't you can just ignore this author's note and enjoy the story! I usually write for VIXX so you'll all have to tell me what you think about it.

For as long as San could remember, he had lived with a horrible curse. He’d been born with it, as far as he knew, and that’s _all_ he knew and even that wasn’t absolutely certain. If it was even true at all, he had absolutely no idea. He really must’ve pissed someone off in a previous life to warrant this kind of living hell now. He supposed it could’ve been worse. He could’ve been cursed to look like a hideous monster until he found love, or to sleep endlessly until his true love kissed him. But no, instead, he was cursed, whenever anyone looked at him, to always look like their ideal type. Now, saying it out loud and all didn’t really make his situation sound like a curse. Of course, anyone would want to look like the perfect person to someone they cared about but when everyone had different tastes, San quickly found out that to every person he met, he looked completely different. It had taken him forever to figure out why no one, not even his own parents, could agree on what he looked like. No one saw the same person he did in the mirror and that’s where the “curse” part came into full effect.

He noticed it first when he was six and old enough to fully understand what his mother was saying and why it was wrong.

“Sanie, you have such gorgeous hair,” she cooed as she was brushing it one morning. “Such pretty blonde hair.”

San looked up at his mother; he didn’t understand what she meant.

“Mommy? My hair is black like yours.”

His mother laughed.

“Oh no sweetie, look.” His mother pointed into the mirror he was sitting in front of. “See? They’re different.” 

But when San did, all he saw was normal, plain black hair like he had always had. Was his mother just playing a joke on him? Just being silly? His six-year-old brain certainly couldn’t understand it. It was quickly forgotten, though, like with most things at that age. But when he got older, old enough to realize his mother wasn’t joking, it made him even more at a loss than before.

“You know San, I’ve always wanted a boy with beautiful blonde hair and bright eyes. I love you so much; you’re going to do great things!”

That didn’t make any sense. Again, San knew his hair was black and his eyes were a dark brown, perhaps the exact opposite of “bright”.

The same day, feeling more confused than ever before, he went to his father with the same question.

“Dad? What do I look like to you?”

“The same as you always do? Are you feeling all right?” His dad asked, setting down the book he had been reading.

“Can you just answer the question? Mom seems to think I have blonde hair…”

“Your mother must be delusional,” his father laughed. “You’ve got black hair just like everyone else.”

San sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank God, you have no idea—”

“But you know San, with your physique you should be an athlete, have you ever thought about trying out for some sports? You know, I’ve always wanted to go cheer my son on at a sports game.”

San looked down at his rather scrawny body. Sure, he was getting taller and definitely filling out as he went through his teenage years, but nothing about his body type really screamed “star athlete”.

“I’ll think about it, dad,” San said, defeated. By that point in his life, he had learned not to argue with people when what they saw and what he actually looked like to himself didn’t sync up. Especially after he once got into an argument with a kid in elementary school and had made the poor girl cry. But, to be fair, he had been crying too, so it evened everything out in the end.

“Why is your hair like that?” The little girl had asked him.

“Like what?” San asked, obviously not understanding what she meant by the question.

“It’s all curly and brown, do you style it?”

“No, it’s black,” San had responded simply, thinking that would be the end of their conversation.

“Nooo, I can see it, it’s brown!”

“It isn’t!”

They both continued yelling at each other until both of them were in tears and the teachers finally stepped in to stop the argument. He found out later that the little girl had had a crush on him from one of her friends, always saying that his curly brown hair and freckles were just the cutest. This hadn’t made San feel any better at the time. The girl must’ve mistaken him for someone else. That’s the only thing San could think of, even years later, that made even a little sense. And in a way, he wasn’t wrong either.

He stopped arguing with people about what he looked like after that. Everyone he talked to, everyone he asked and everyone who said little off-hand comments about his appearance, always saw something different than what he always saw in the mirror. And when he started dating, he finally understood exactly what the curse he lived with actually was.

He was a little shy when it came to vocalizing how he felt about people in a romantic sort of sense, especially when he learned that it wasn’t a relatively normal thing to be attracted to other boys when he was in high school. But the girls he had tried dating—he found he was relatively popular amongst the ladies even though they never agreed on what it is he actually looked like—were nice enough.

“Your eyes are so blue, I could stare into them forever.”

“Is your tan natural or do you get it done?”

“Such soft, fluffy, blonder hair.”

“I never thought I’d find a guy like you. There aren’t a lot of guys that are actually my type, you know?”

San stopped correcting them, didn’t bother trying to explain to them how he didn’t actually look like any of that. He would just distance himself from them because what else was he supposed to do? Continue going out with someone who saw someone else when they looked at him? That’s what had finally cued him into what exactly had been happening to him his entire life.

His mother had seen the beautiful blonde-haired and blue-eyed son she’d always wanted. His father had seen the star athlete that he could take golfing and throw a ball around with like the son he had always wanted. Adults and teachers always saw an angel of a boy, the cutest, most sweetest child anyone could ask for. His classmates and girls around his age always saw whatever they thought was the image of perfection. Whether that was platonically or romantically, that’s exactly what he embodied in their eyes.

This obviously had been rather hard to handle at first. Why was this happening to him? Was this a normal occurrence? A quick google search had told him he was alone in this issue. Did anyone know what he really looked like? Did he? Nobody he had met so far had ever described what he looked like. Was he really no one’s ideal type? Did everyone see someone else when they looked at him? Could he break the curse?

He had absolutely no idea. And he didn’t really have anyone to talk to about all this either. No one would ever believe him. He could hardly believe it himself. So, he kept it to himself. He didn’t have much else he could do. All he could really do was hope that one day, someone, somewhere would describe him as their ideal type.

He lost that hope rather quickly; though, he tried his absolute best to cling to it desperately. It’s all he had. The thought that no one could see him as their ideal type was too depressing a thought to entertain for longer than a moment. Though, he often found himself dwelling on it for much longer than just one.

Once he started University, he started dating the kinds of people that he actually wanted to date. That, of course, being men. He found a nice little community, friends that accepted who he was even if none of them knew what he looked like. It was the happiest he had been in a really long time.

Too bad his dating life was absolutely abysmal.

It always went the same way. Every time. Without fail.

He’d meet a guy, they’d hit it off really well, and one of them would ask the other on a date. Usually, the date would go super well, maybe even _extremely_ well in some cases, and he’d hope just a bit that maybe, just maybe he had found someone who thought he was their ideal type, the kind of person they dreamed about spending the rest of their life with. But then a couple more dates would always reveal that his hope was ill-founded. He never asked, never made it a point to ask, what he looked like to them. That would be like asking for disappointment. The longer he could prolong the unknown, the more hopeful it made him. It was a vicious cycle since the truth almost always came out eventually anyway, but he hated that soul-crushing disappointment. Especially when he really liked the guy.

“The red is natural, right? I don’t think I’ve actually met anyone in real life with natural red hair.”

“So, you’re into tattoos? I really like that on a guy.”

“Your freckles are absolutely adorable.”

Whenever that happened, San would always force a smile and thank them for the compliments. And then, he’d politely decline any other dates they might try to set up in the future even if he really wanted to continue seeing the guy. What was the point if they didn’t see the real him, though?

He started dying his hair outrageous colors after a while. No one could see it anyway, so he could do whatever he wanted with his actual appearance. Plus, if anyone could actually see what he looked like, it would be easier to find them if they ever commented on his crazy hair colors. He got his ears pierced too, again not that anyone could notice. It made him happy, though, so at least it wasn’t a total waste of time actually putting an effort into his appearance. He still had his friends, too. He didn’t think he could handle his lifelong search for love much longer if he didn’t have them. None of them knew of his ailment, except for Seonghwa who had comforted him through even the worst of it. He’d been confused by San’s admission at first as was expected but had ultimately come to believe him. It had made San feel so much better to share his struggle with someone. Even if Seonghwa couldn’t really empathize with him, it still made him feel better just to have someone know why he ran around from guy to guy never satisfied. None of his other friends knew but they did know he had terrible luck in dating and were always ready to go out of their way to comfort him, and he loved them for it.

“You’ll find someone, someday, hyung,” Wooyoung tried to comfort, patting his back as San laid with his face on their table.

“Do you really think so?” He asked, looking hopefully up at the other man. Wooyoung cleared his throat, taking a nervous glance around to see who out of the four of them at the table were listening to their conversation before continuing. San couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. Wooyoung was so cute. He could die happily having someone even a fraction of the cute Wooyoung was. Too bad he wasn’t interested.

“Of course, any guy would be lucky to have you.”

San sighed, pulling himself off the table and taking a swig of his drink. He knew Wooyoung meant to comfort him with his words, but he also knew that ‘any guy’ didn’t include the one guy he actually wanted to have him. He didn’t think any amount of alcohol could drown out his disappointment, but it was worth a shot for the time being anyway.

“I think you’ve had enough of that,” Seonghwa chastised, taking away San’s cup before he could finish his fifth drink of the night.

“Hey, no I haven’t! I can still see straight,” San complained, stumbling through the sentence. All three of his friends rolled their eyes.

“That’s the point,” Hongjoong said. “You can’t do this every time you break up with someone… it can’t be healthy…”

“You’re probably right,” San caved in. He waved over their waitress and ordered water as he begrudgingly watched Seonghwa finish off the drink he had stolen from him. “I just wish I could be someone’s version of perfect… like actually me and not just…”

San didn’t let himself say anything more, even in his drunken state he knew he shouldn’t say what was really bugging him. Instead, he only rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to himself. Seonghwa would understand and everyone else would just hear him complaining about his appearance for the thousandth time.

“I’m sure you are. Come on, don’t think like that,” Seonghwa cooed, pinching his cheek. He knew the older man meant well, but he was also one hundred percent sure he looked exactly like Seonghwa’s version of perfect every time he looked at him. That was the issue after all: He always looked like everyone’s version of perfect, but no one ever actually saw _him_ as perfect.

“Hyung, can I ask you something?” San asked.

“Yeah of course, what is it?”

“Can you describe what I look like to you?”

It was a dangerous game he was playing; if anyone overheard Seonghwa’s answer there would be major confusion. But he was relatively drunk and he hadn’t asked someone such a question in a very long time. He wanted to know the answer even if he could probably tell Seonghwa exactly who it was he saw when he looked at him.

“What kind of question is that?” Seonghwa laughed; either playing the part of a confused friend to avoid misunderstanding or nervous about giving away what his version of perfect was, San didn’t know.

“Could you just do it?”

Now was a perfect time. Wooyoung and Hongjoong were in a very heated debate at the moment about something silly no doubt. They would hear nothing of their conversation if they were fast.

“I guess… You’ve got, you know, shaggy blonde hair, large brown eyes that sparkle when you smile, you’re kind of small, a really cute nose, and you kinda—”

“Look like Hongjoong,” San finished, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He knew that would be his answer. His friend wasn’t exactly good at hiding his attraction to the other man. Hongjoong must’ve been absolutely blind or too shy to ever want to notice.

At least Seonghwa had the decency to blush at the statement. He knew exactly what San’s words meant in the context of his curse, after all.

“What… I-I don’t—”

“Sure hyung… sure,” San admonished with a smile.

They talked for a little while longer, finishing off the rest of their food and calling it a night.

“Can you make sure he gets home safely, Wooyoungie?” Seonghwa asked.

“I’m not that drunk, hyung,” San snorted, wrapping an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulder to stop himself from swaying on his feet.

“Yeah okay, and neither is Hongjoong,” Seonghwa snorted, pointing a hand over to the older man who was spinning in a circle behind him, giggling hysterically.

“Don’t worry, we live in the same area anyway,” Wooyoung said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Seonghwa nodded, bidding them farewell as he led the very giggly, and even more clingy, Hongjoong in the opposite direction of where he and Wooyoung would be headed. The two of them then left as well, San using Wooyoung for support as they stumbled along. Maybe he had drunk too much…

“How come you’re not dating anyone, Wooyoung?” San slurred out. Again, he was traversing dangerous territory. He’d had an ever-lingering crush on Wooyoung ever since he met the man, but he had quickly found out that he was straight and wholly uninterested in ever trying guys out. So, San had never tried anything more than clingy affection when he could get away with it.

“You’re so handsome, you could have anyone you wanted.” _Including me_ , but San left that part off.

Wooyoung scoffed at that, rolling his eyes like he didn’t believe anything San had just said.

“If only that were true,” he said quietly.

“Aww, poor Youngie,” San cooed. “Having girl troubles?”

“Something like that, I guess…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Even if San really didn’t want to hear about Wooyoung’s escapades in dating out of nothing but pure jealousy, he couldn’t stand the absolutely downtrodden look the younger was wearing on his face. Wooyoung had been there for him through many of his horrible adventures in dating, it was the least he could do to listen to Wooyoung for a change no matter how much he hated it.

“Not really,” Wooyoung said, adjusting himself so that he had an arm around San’s waist as they walked. San hummed, surprised yet happy to find Wooyoung willing to reciprocate San’s clinginess tonight. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Anything for my Wooyoung,” San giggled, enjoying the way the younger’s cheeks flushed at his words.

“How did you know you were gay?”

“Why would you want to know that?” San asked, feeling perhaps a bit too hopeful given the circumstances. He’d been a couple guys’ trial run in the past and he couldn’t say he had really enjoyed that kind of relationship. It almost always ended in disappointment even worse than usual.

“I just—” Wooyoung cut himself off before he said anything more, growing uncomfortably silent. San decided to save him the embarrassment of whatever it was that he was trying to say.

“It was probably during high school. There was this guy, a soccer player, so cute I melted whenever he so much as looked in my direction. And you know, in general, I see a guy and think ‘God damn he’s cute’,” he explained. “Kind of like every time I look at you!”

He was only teasing when he said it, but it was one hundred percent true nonetheless. Perhaps he took it too far, however. Wooyoung grew uncomfortably quiet once more. He wondered if the answer he gave was what Wooyoung was expecting or if it only made whatever turmoil he was in even worse. They walked a couple more feet in silence and just as San was about to say something more, Wooyoung spoke up again:

“What was it that you were talking about with Seonghwa back at the bar?” He asked.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that…”

“About what you looked like? He said some things that didn’t make any sense.”

“Oh… so you heard that?”

“Yeah, why didn’t Seonghwa tell you what you actually look like? You don’t have blonde hair and… and you’re definitely not _small_.” Wooyoung said the word like he couldn’t believe it would ever be used to describe San. “His description sounded more like Hongjoong than anyone else.”  

San’s heart skipped a beat. This was dangerous, what he was about to do. Just opening himself up for even more heartbreak that he didn’t even know if he could handle at the moment. But he was dying to know—he _had_ to know—what Wooyoung saw when he looked at him. What was the biggest-crush-of-his-life’s ideal type?

“What do I look like to you, Wooyoung?” He practically whispered.

“What you always look like, hyung,” Wooyoung laughed quietly, clearly not understanding why San was asking what seemed to be such a ridiculous question. San didn’t know what to really expect from Wooyoung at this point but what came out of Wooyoung’s mouth certainly wasn’t it. “You dyed your hair again pretty recently, so you have black hair with red highlights. I think it looks nice, I like it better than the green you had before. It always hangs in your eyes, though, when you don’t style it which is more often than not.”

San stopped dead in his tracks, physically unable to will his body to move with the shock he had just received. That’s _exactly_ what his hair looked like now. What was happening? He couldn’t breathe. Wooyoung had to keep talking. He had to know more. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost… Are you going to be sick? Seonghwa told you, you shouldn’t have drunk so much!” Wooyoung immediately went into worry mode, standing in front of him now. His eyebrows were knotted together in his concern, looking at San as if he were analyzing for any sign of discomfort and preparing to do whatever it took to make it better.

“Keep going… Wh—What else?” San managed to get out around his utter disbelief.

“Well… you’ve got brown eyes obviously. They’re small, though, and crinkle whenever you make any sort of facial expression…” Wooyoung started apprehensively, confused as to why San would want him to continue describing him. He got more confident in his answers, however, when San began nodding enthusiastically for him to continue. “Umm, you’re only a little taller than me and you’re kinda skinny but certainly not small as Seonghwa had said. You’ve got these three moles in a triangle on your left cheek right there, there, and there; and another one right above your eye.”

Wooyoung touched the three spots of his cheek where the beauty marks were and brushed his fingertips across the one above his eye. San’s breath caught in his throat.

“Your ears are pierced, both of them. Whenever you smile, you have the cutest dimples and your eyes turn to crescents and… oh my god, are you crying?”

San blinked a few times, bringing a hand up to his eyes. He found unmistakable evidence and now that he realized he was actually crying, he couldn’t stop. This couldn’t be true. Wooyoung. Adorable, amazing, sexy, wonderful Wooyoung saw the real him. He covered his eyes entirely with his hand, letting a sob wrack through his body at the realization. He rushed forward, burying his face in a very worried and even more confused Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“No one’s—” San cut himself off with another choked sob. Wooyoung got over his initial surprise quickly, and hugged San close, trying his absolute best to console the man crying into his shoulder. San took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself enough to speak without wavering before continuing. “No one’s ever said that about me.”

“What are you talking about?” Wooyoung asked, confusion still ever prevalent. San didn’t blame him. None of this made any sense. San didn’t even understand it fully himself. “No one’s told you what you looked like? Hyung, I don’t understand.”

San took one last deep breath, standing up on his own and wiping at his eyes.

“You have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

“San, you’re scaring me.” Wooyoung looked so worried like he would do anything to make San feel better. He stepped closer to him again, reaching up to wipe some of his stray tears away. “Let me help you… whatever it is, please.”

“I was born with… with this curse where to each person who looks at me, sees exactly their idea of perfect, their ideal…”

Wooyoung looked even more confused than before if that were even possible.

“Think about it, you noticed it when Seonghwa described me,” San said. “He described Hongjoong instead of me and everyone knows he’s head over heels for the guy.”

Wooyoung didn’t give in, looking just as skeptical as before. San sighed, looking around the nearly empty street. He ran up to the nearest person: A younger man, probably only a little older than themselves.

“Excuse me, but could you describe what I look like?”

The man looked startled but thankfully humored him.

“Light brown hair, green eyes, really pale… are you a foreigner?”

“No, but thank you for your time.”

San gestured to the man as he walked away now, looking back to Wooyoung expectantly.

“How can this be real?” Wooyoung practically whispered.

“I wish it wasn’t,” San agreed, walking back up to be close to Wooyoung.

“Why… why was my description any different, then?”

“You… you were the first person I’ve met to describe what I actually look like,” San said quietly, almost hesitantly. As far as he still knew, Wooyoung was straight. Uninterested in guys. He didn’t want the man to think he was expecting anything of him because, despite having a massive crush on Wooyoung that was growing by the second, he would do nothing if Wooyoung didn’t want him to.

“How, how… How do you know what you actually look like if everyone sees something different?”

Wooyoung wasn’t looking at him again, probably beginning to understand where San was going with this, what he had accidentally and unknowingly just admitted to.

“I can see myself in mirrors.”

“How do you know that it's actually you, though?”

“Because I don’t look like my ideal type to me,” San said easily. He had decided that a long time ago when he had realized his affection for that smiley soccer player in high school.

“…What’s your ideal type, then?” Wooyoung asked, eyes focused solely on the ground. San decided it was only fair to share after Wooyoung had done so unwillingly. He was also still very drunk and feeling much more reckless than he normally would be sober. He decided to just go for it; he had nothing more to lose at this point. He figured that if Wooyoung was that put off by this whole situation that he never wanted to see San again, the damage had already been done. Why would confessing all his feelings make things any worse at that point?

“Wooyoungie, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?” San asked, his voice quiet. “Because… well, you would see it every time you did.”

Wooyoung flinched slightly at his words as if they had startled him, before blushing a bright red.

“I’m being serious,” Wooyoung whispered. San dropped all playfulness from his voice.

“So am I.”

Wooyoung didn’t say anything for a really long time as he stared at his shoes. Well, he really had done it now. Wooyoung had practically told San the words he’d been wanting to hear his entire life. _You’re perfect to me._ And San had just gone and scared him away. He wanted to wait, wanted to wait until Wooyoung figured everything out in his head and said something. Wanted to wait until Wooyoung could tell him exactly what was going on in his mind and San could tell him that despite everything that had just happened, he expected nothing from Wooyoung in return. But it was late. They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk and it was getting colder by the second.

“Come on,” San said carefully, grabbing Wooyoung’s arms hesitantly. “Let’s get you home, it’s late.”

Again, Wooyoung didn’t say anything. He just let San lead him down the street, eyes completely unfocused as he was lost in his own head. San decided to walk Wooyoung back to his apartment first. San could stumble his way home on his own, but he didn’t want Wooyoung walking by himself in this almost catatonic state. His worry would be immeasurable.

They reached his home not having spoken a word when San deposited Wooyoung at his doorstep.

“I’m—I’m sorry for making things weird,” San said, letting Wooyoung go and moving a respectable distance away from him. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it but just know that I don’t expect anything from you… I’ll see you later…”

He began to move away, leave Wooyoung to deal with everything San had just dumped on him. That’s all he could do at this point.

But he was stopped.

“Hyung wait,” Wooyoung said finally. He grabbed San’s wrist, pulling him back towards him. “Can you… stay here? I want to talk about it now.”

“Okay…” San nodded, letting Wooyoung pull him into his home. There wasn’t a single light on in the two-room apartment and when the door was closed behind them it was completely dark except for the passing lights of cars driving by. The second the door clicked locked and they were enveloped in darkness, San felt Wooyoung move closer to him, much closer than he had ever done willingly by himself before. So close, San could make out every inch of Wooyoung’s face even in the darkness. He stared down at the younger man, searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what was happening. Wooyoung stared back up at him, seemingly debating what his next move should be with an unreadable expression on his face. San could feel every inch of where Wooyoung’s body touched his own with such intensity, the hairs on the back on his neck were on their ends in anticipation. Tentatively and with a stiff gulp, San brought a hand up to Wooyoung’s cheek, watching the man’s eyes flutter closed at the action.

“Wooyoung…” San whispered, almost more like a question than a statement. “If you don’t say something, I might misunderstand.”

Wooyoung shook his head, eyes still closed while he waited for San to do something.

“You already know you’re my idea of perfection,” Wooyoung whispered. San’s heart soared at those words. Hearing them out loud made all those years of loneliness and hopelessness feel worth it. If it meant holding Wooyoung like this, hearing those words come from his mouth, he would go through it all again. “I have to tell you something, hyung.”

“What is it?” San asked, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching. Wooyoung opened his eyes again, looking nervously up at San. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for Wooyoung to speak.

“I think… I think I’m bi.”

“How do you figure?”

“It started last year when I met this guy in my calculus course, and he was so hot I could melt every time he so much as looked at me,” he whispered, mirroring San’s words from earlier. Except for this time, Wooyoung was reciting the time where he and San had first met when Hongjoong had introduced the two of them.

“And those girl problems you mentioned earlier?”

“You’re the one who brought up girl problems, I just didn’t correct you.”

“So you were talking about me, then?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Wooyoung whined.

San moved in even closer, their lips brushing as he spoke.

“Wooyoungie,” San whispered. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I _was_ talking about you… I really, really like you. I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about you—”

If Wooyoung was going to say anything more, San didn’t let him finish. He surged forward, capturing his plush lips against his own. Wooyoung gasped quietly in his surprise but he recovered quickly, returning the kiss just as passionately. San wrapped his arms tightly around Wooyoung’s waist, trying to get him impossibly closer. Wooyoung returned the gesture, winding his arms around San’s neck as their lips moved against one another’s. San trailed an arm up Wooyoung’s back, his hand coming to rest in the soft black locks of the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. He was on fire, every fiber of his being loving the fact that he was kissing Wooyoung and Wooyoung was reciprocating all his feelings. He wanted more; so much more but he didn’t want to do anything Wooyoung didn’t want.

He broke their kiss, pulling away so he could ask if everything that was happening was okay. Instead, his eyes went wide as Wooyoung actually whined at the loss of contact, chasing after his lips as he went.

Well.

If Wooyoung wanted more, was going to react like that when San pulled away, who was San to deny him? San twisted his head as he swooped back in, holding Wooyoung’s in place and deepening their kiss that much more. Wooyoung let out possibly the dirtiest moan San had ever heard, spurring him on all that much more. He quickly walked the two of them back until he had Wooyoung caged against himself and pushed up against a wall. Wooyoung groaned again; San had no idea he was so vocal, and he was loving every single second of it all. Though he probably should’ve known Wooyoung would be loud in the bedroom with how loud he was in just an everyday setting. He wasn’t complaining, though. He loved it when his partner was loud.

San pulled gently at Wooyoung’s hair with one hand and used his other to feel the smooth, strong flesh hiding under layers of clothes. Wooyoung’s hands frantically fumbled with the hem of San’s shirt, itching to delve underneath the fabric but too nervous to indulge such an impulse. San shrugged off his jacket first, lips never leaving Wooyoung’s before he broke away for a second to take off his T-shirt too. Wooyoung watched him with hooded eyes, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. San wasted absolutely no time, kissing Wooyoung with an open mouth and guiding the man’s hands to his chest to erase his nerves.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” San whispered as he helped Wooyoung out of his own jacket and shirt.

“Have you had a lot of fantasies about ravaging me against a wall?” Wooyoung asked, smirking up at San with a surprisingly amount of confidence. Wooyoung was playing a dangerous game now. Practically asking for San to tell him exactly how he wanted him every which way.

“Against a wall, over a desk, in your bed, my bed, a public bathroom, wherever I could get you,” San said, punctuating his admission by sucking what he hoped would turn out to be a dark bruise on Wooyoung’s neck, right at his pulse point.

“San,” Wooyoung whined, high-pitched and needy, at his words, arching his back off the wall, desperately trying to get even closer to him. San helped him out, picking Wooyoung up from under his thighs and pushing him further against the wall, their hips connecting, creating wonderful friction between their clothed groins. Wooyoung caught on quickly for someone who hadn’t been in this position before, wrapping his legs around San’s waist and forcing them that much closer. It was San’s turn to groan appreciatively into Wooyoung’s hot, open mouth as he discovered just how turned on Wooyoung was by this situation. For someone who had been strictly straight when he met him, this was a complete 180 from what he had expected of him.

“Someone’s excited,” San teased.

“Can you blame me?” Wooyoung whispered quietly, clearly embarrassed by San’s words.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” San groaned, rolling his hips up against Wooyoung’s, drawing out a choked back whine. Wooyoung broke their kiss this time, throwing his head back against the wall, eyes closed in his bliss, panting heavily. San continued to grind against Wooyoung, loving the sight in front of him twice as much as the pleasure he got from the motion itself. Wooyoung gripped him tightly, moaning loudly and bearing his neck when San began kissing at it. San held himself back from leaving marks everywhere his teeth could reach. That would be for another time when he was absolutely sure Wooyoung was his to mark.

“San!” Wooyoung half-whined, half panted, rolling his hips to meet San’s now.

“You’re beautiful,” San whispered in his ear, nipping at his lobes. “So cute. God, I want you.”

Wooyoung moaned at his words, still chasing an orgasm against San’s own clothed erection.

“Bedroom,” Wooyoung begged. “Bedroom, now holy shit, please!”

San halted his movements, leaving Wooyoung a whimpering mess as he tried to find whatever friction he could.

“Are you sure?” San asked, voice cracking over the words.

“Yes! I’ve thought about this for a really long time. I know what I want, and I want you to fuck me so bad. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

Something in San’s mind snapped, whatever reservations he still had about this situation vanished in an instant. He had just heard a very loud, very dirty, and very enthusiastic “yes” from his partner and he was going to enjoy the moment to it’s fullest.

“You know, for a guy who’s never been with another man, you’re awfully brave to want me to fuck you,” San said with a smirk, loving the way Wooyoung blushed at his words.

“I… I did some research…”

“Oh?”

“A lot of research… and, and I…”

“Shh, you don’t have to say it. I already know how badly you want it,” San teased, punctuating his sentence by grabbing the prominent erection through Wooyoung’s pants. Wooyoung cried out loudly, burying his face into San’s shoulder as he carried him carefully from against the wall towards where he knew Wooyoung’s bedroom to be. He kicked his shoes off as he went before laying Wooyoung carefully down on the bed. Wooyoung did the same before maneuvering into the middle of the queen-sized bed while San crawled after him.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined this going,” Wooyoung admitted as San got settled between his legs. Slowly, San began to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses along Wooyoung’s neck and jawline. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. “I wanted to ask you out before skipping right to this part.”

“Disappointed?”

“Oh god no,” Wooyoung groaned.

“Think about having sex with me a lot?” San teased, nipping at his skin and leaving another mark in his wake.

“Yes,” Wooyoung readily admitted, San pulled back to look at Wooyoung in surprise at his boldness. He found a shit-eating grin staring back at him. “Especially when I have four of my fingers knuckles deep, wishing they were your cock instead.”

“Fuck,” San groaned, long and deep. Wooyoung was going to kill him if he kept this up. “And how long were you planning on keeping this a secret from me?”

“You were always hopping from guy to guy, I didn’t want to just be another one of them,” Wooyoung admitted.

“You’re actually pretty whipped for me, then.”

Wooyoung hit him with an eye-roll.

“And what about you? You could’ve done something to have this happen sooner.”

“Well Youngie, up until about half an hour ago, I thought you were straight…”

“That hasn’t stopped you in the past.”

“Do you want me to say it? Fine then, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we first met but you know… my curse… I was terrified that when you looked at me, you saw something completely different and that would hurt more than anything else in my life. You have been the one person who I never wanted to know what you really saw because I didn’t think I could handle it. You’re so amazing…”

“Do you really mean that?”  Wooyoung asked, looking up into San’s eyes. A hand came up to his face as Wooyoung cupped his cheek.

“I adore you,” San admitted, kissing the palm of Wooyoung’s hand. “You’ll never be just another one of those guys. I’m not letting someone who can see me go so easily.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere, hyung. You’re exactly my type.”

That was the first time those words had ever been said to him where they actually made him happy.

“Now are you going fuck me or am I going to have to do it myself?” Wooyoung asked sarcastically.

“You know, that’s very tempting,” San cooed. “I’d love to see you fuck yourself to thoughts of me.”

Wooyoung gulped nervously; San laughed.

“But maybe another time.” He watched Wooyoung visibly relax. “Do you have lube?”

Wooyoung nodded, pointing to his side table. San reached over, pulled open the top drawer, dug around a bit, and pulled out the almost empty small bottle. San giggled, knowing immediately why the bottle was so well used. Wooyoung flushed again, knowing immediately where San’s mind had gone.

“You pick the weirdest times to get embarrassed,” San laughed, getting comfortable on top of Wooyoung once again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s cute,” San brushed off. “You’ll tell me, though, if I hurt you, right?”

Wooyoung nodded.

“I want to make you feel good,” San strung out, practically purred, brushing his lips against Wooyoung’s as he spoke. Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered, his pupils dilating as the room began to heat up once again. He’d be seeing him every time he closed his eyes. And hopefully, every time he opened them too for the foreseeable future.

“By all means,” Wooyoung whispered, meeting San’s lips with equal enthusiasm, equal passion. San ran his hands down Wooyoung’s bare chest; warm, smooth skin met his fingertips. He tried his hardest to memorize every crevice, every bundle of hard muscle and expanse of soft flesh. When his hands reached the waistband of Wooyoung’s jeans, he made quick work of his belt, button, and zipper. San kissed his way down Wooyoung’s body, from his lips, down his chest, stopping right before the growing bulge in Wooyoung’s jeans. San pulled at his pants and Wooyoung helped, shimmying out of both his jeans and his underwear in one go. He laid bare in front of San then; his embarrassment clear in the way he crossed his arms around his body, fidgeting as he looked everywhere but San. San, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, couldn’t look away.

“Don’t cover yourself, it’s just me,” San tried to comfort.

“You say that as if it should make me feel less nervous,” Wooyoung whispered. San immediately understood. Wooyoung had never been in a situation like this. It was like his first time all over again. It’d been a while since San had been with an inexperienced partner, but he was more than willing to guide Wooyoung through it all.

“Don’t think so much,” San tried again. “He grabbed one of Wooyoung’s hands, guiding it onto the top of his head. Wooyoung threaded his fingers through his hair as San then let go of his hand and moved downwards until Wooyoung’s dick was right in front of his face. Wooyoung looked down at him, clearly understanding what San was going to do next. “Relax and enjoy yourself.”

A few strokes had Wooyoung back up to a full erection and a couple more had Wooyoung beginning to let a few moans slip out again. That’s when San dropped his head all the way down, enjoying the way Wooyoung pulled at his hair in anticipation. He kissed his way up the length first; Wooyoung tensed underneath his hands now resting at his hips. When he reached the head, he swirled his tongue around the tip before engulfing him into his mouth entirely.

San practically melted at the sound of the absolutely debauched moan that came out of Wooyoung’s mouth in reaction. He bobbed his head with practiced ease, eager to please and make Wooyoung’s nerves disappear completely. This definitely wasn’t his first time sucking someone off, and he wouldn’t call himself an expert at it either, but the way Wooyoung was reacting made him feel like he’d been practicing his entire life simply for this moment. His hands pulled at San’s hair in pleasure, his back arched off the bed, his mouth hung perpetually open as moan after moan poured from him.

San pulled off him, eliciting a needy whine from Wooyoung who tired his hardest to keep San right where he was.

“If you want me to fuck you, you might want to hold off for just a bit longer,” San whispered. Wooyoung let go of him then, and San went in search of where he had left the bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount onto his first two fingers once he found the bottle and got comfortable back where he had been before. Wooyoung quickly threaded his fingers back into San’s hair, chest heaving with every breath he took.

“This probably isn’t going to feel very good at first,” San told him before going in to tease him once more. “But I’m sure you know all about that already.”

“I’ll do it myself if you don’t get on with it,” Wooyoung panted out.

San smirked.

“That’s hardly a punishment,” San chastised, beginning to circle his entrance once the lube had been warmed by his hands. Wooyoung shivered.

“Please,” he whispered, spreading his legs a little further, trying to get his point across without actually saying anything. San licked his lips at the sight; how delicious. He wasted hardly any time, pushing one finger into Wooyoung, surprised by how little resistance he was met with. He groaned at the implications of such a revelation.

“How many times have you fingered yourself?” San asked.

Wooyoung said nothing, eyes clenched tight in pleasure, but the way his face flushed once more told San everything he needed to know.

“Oh, we are so going to talk more about this later,” San teased, leaving kisses along Wooyoung’s thighs as he added another finger and pushed in as deep as he could. Wooyoung cried out loudly once more, practically rocking his hips back into San’s fingers to get them even deeper inside him. San probed around, looking to maximize the amount of pleasure Wooyoung could be feeling. A few more thrusts and another finger later, Wooyoung was practically squirming under his touch, whining even louder than he had before and San loved watching every second of it. He was almost as frantic as Wooyoung was himself, but he had to control himself for just a bit longer. He didn’t want to hurt him but once the younger started begging for more at practically every single thrust of his fingers inside, San decided to give into desire.

He stopped his movement, whispering words of promise that he wasn’t going anywhere when Wooyoung cried out in protest. He undid his own pants quickly, sighing happily when he was freed completely from the confines. Wooyoung watched him the entire time, eyes hooded and dark with lust, biting his lip in anticipation. San made quick work of applying even more lube to his cock and getting into a comfortable position for both of them.

“Tell me if it hurts,” San whispered, spreading Wooyoung’s legs even further apart before guiding his erection straight into Wooyoung. The younger nodded enthusiastically, bracing himself as San began to push in.

San practically shook at the feeling, positively vibrating with pleasure; it’d been a while since his partner had been the one wanting him to fuck them and he had practically forgotten how absolutely delicious this initial push was. Or maybe, it just felt a million times better simply because it was Wooyoung; now _his_ adorable, amazing, sexy, wonderful Wooyoung. San buried his face in Wooyoung’s neck as he slid in, groaning loudly as he kissed and bit at anything he could reach to stop himself from snapping his hips all the way in. Wooyoung’s eyes clenched shut as he whined high in the back of his throat, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. San kissed them away, murmuring words of praise as he waited ever so patiently yet at the brink of losing control for Wooyoung to give the go ahead.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung choked out, his voice breaking over the words in a mix of extreme pleasure and slight discomfort. “Please, you can—do something, anything.”

San moaned in acknowledgment, more than willing to get this show on the road. He pulled his hips backward, his dick pulling out to just about the tip before sliding right back in. A choked sound of pleasure escaped Wooyoung’s mouth at every painfully slow thrust. He wrapped his legs around San’s waist tight, keeping him from pulling too far out and forcing him to delve deeper with every roll of his hips. San couldn’t complain about this new position, grinding his hips harder, faster into Wooyoung, reaching deeper and bring them both much more pleasure than before.

San’s moans mixed with Wooyoung’s now, filling the room with the obscene sounds of their voices and skin hitting skin. They kissed hungrily, tongues sloppily tangling between their mouths, saliva dripping from their lips. San swallowed every single one of Wooyoung’s moans, loving the way his name tasted coming from the other man’s mouth, spoken with nothing but pure lust dripping sweetly from his lips as both their pleasures grew to heights neither of them had reached before. San didn’t think he could have sex with anyone ever again with the way this felt, nothing could compare, and he’d forever be thinking of Wooyoung every time he touched himself in the future; more so than before, that is.

“You’re so good,” San said into Wooyoung’s mouth as they kissed so sloppily it could hardly even be called a kiss anymore.

“San,” Wooyoung moaned, drawing out the single syllable of his name. “I’m—I’m close.”

“It’s all right. Cum for me, beautiful,” San murmured. And in a few more thrusts, Wooyoung did exactly that as San did nothing more than grind his hips forward, cock buried deep and rubbing against his prostate so that Wooyoung saw stars when he came hard. His mouth fell open, nothing but a strangled moan came from him; he threw his head back, eyes clenched shut in his absolute bliss, white coating both of their chests.

San followed soon after, the gorgeous sight before him and the way Wooyoung tightened around him bringing him the rest of the way over the edge. San collapsed on top of Wooyoung as he caught his breath; Wooyoung breathing just as heavily. San kissed his collar bone, timing his breaths with Wooyoung’s unconsciously.

“I think I’m in love,” San laughed against Wooyoung’s bare skin.

“You’re such a dork,” Wooyoung chastised lightly, his voice hoarse from their activities.

San pulled himself off Wooyoung, grabbing one of the shirts littering Wooyoung’s floor and using it to wipe the cum off the two of them.

“I’m only half joking,” San agreed, smiling down at Wooyoung. Disbelief was beginning to set in as he looked at the completely blissed out and handsome man staring back up at him with just as starstruck a smile.

“I know,” Wooyoung whispered. San kissed him slowly, much less urgently than they had been before.

“You’re okay with… this…” San started hesitantly. “With us?”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows knotted briefly before he rose one at his words.

“What part about “Hyung, please fuck me,” says that I’m not okay with this?” Wooyoung teased. San rolled his eyes.

“Lusting after me and being in love with me are two totally different things,” San said.

“Can I say yes to both?” Wooyoung asked in a whisper, eyes focused on something to the left of him as he said it. “Because I think it’s both…”

“You’re in love with me?”

“I think so…” Wooyoung said. “I don’t really know what that feels like but whenever I look at you… you’re just perfect. Everything. So, I really, really want to go out with you… if you’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding me?” San laughed. “I’m never letting you go.”

He laughed, pulling San down to kiss him again.

He had been born with a curse, a curse that he knew absolutely nothing about. It had taken him forever to figure out why no one seemed to agree on what he really looked and another eternity to accept the fact that perhaps no one would ever see him. His entire life had been a search for that one person. There just had to be someone. Anyone. Someone who saw him, the real him, as absolutely perfect. And now… he had found Wooyoung. Adorable, amazing, sexy, wonderful Wooyoung, who embodied literally everything he thought of as perfect and who saw the same in him. Suddenly, his curse meant absolutely nothing to him. All those years of loneliness and hopeless longing meant nothing to him anymore. As long as his Wooyoung could see him, nothing else mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and if I should write more for ATEEZ? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! All comments appreciated! 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter! I need for ATEEZ mutuals. @AAvery151


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